Victimized Hearts
by Tarafina
Summary: The relationship between two partners comes under curiosity when they're both attacked. Life outside the lab has its own twists and turns that are about to be unraveled. :FM Radio:
1. Part I

**Title**: Victimized Hearts  
**Category**: CSI: NY  
**Rating**: M  
**Genre**: Mystery/Romance  
**Pairing**: Don Flack/Lindsay Monroe  
**Word Count**: 1,406  
**Summary**: The relationship between two partners comes under curiosity when they're both attacked. Life outside the lab has its own twists and turns that are about to be unraveled.

**Part I  
**-_Present_-

There was a scattering of candles lighting up the living room, giving it all a romantic glow. A bottle of champagne was half-empty, two glasses sitting next to it, one a third full and the other completely drained. The music was on low, a soft melody without words. They danced in the middle, bodies tightly wound together. Talk was low, whispers and light laughter. He twirled her, drawing her against him so her back was pressed to his front. Her head fell back, brown eyes staring up at him, a smile curving her lips. He traced her cheek with his thumb, slow and delicate.

Running the palms of both his hands down her shoulders, he took the thin straps of her dress with him. She shrugged to help him remove the fabric and turned her head to one side as he ducked his face low and buried it in the crook of her neck. His lips smoothed over the long column of her throat while his fingers slid around her back and lowered the zipper of her dress. She wiggled her hips side to side and the black fabric slid to the ground, pooling at her feet. She lifted one leg out and then used her foot to kick it away. Standing in a matching lingerie set the same color as his eyes, she showed no signs of self-consciousness as she continued to sway her hips side to side in their dance.

Turning in his arms, she lifted her hands to the lapels of his suit jacket and used them to tug him close, grinning just before she kissed him, drawing his tongue into play. Her hands slid beneath to push his jacket off as he deepened their kiss, one of his hands burying in her hair tightly. Her body curved up against his, her front pressed tight to him. Letting his coat drop, he brought his free hand to her back and slid his forefinger down her spine from the nape of her neck to the small of her black, smirking as she let out a shaky whimper against his mouth.

Her fingers loosened only two buttons of his dress shirt before she got fed up and tore it apart. They laughed together as the buttons flew every which way, skittering over the floor. She pulled the pale blue shirt down his arms, tracing their muscled shape with her fingers. His tie was still around his neck, askew and loosened but hanging down his naked torso enticingly. She unbuckled his pants and slid her hands inside them as she lowered her mouth to his chest and kissed his pectoral, lightly nipping him and dragging her tongue across his nipples. Now it was his turn to let out a shaky breath.

His cell phone beeped in the background. Neither heard, neither cared.

He tugged lightly on her hair, brought her face back up to catch her gaze. They smiled and he easily picked her up, her legs winding around his waist, before walking them toward their bedroom. He laid her back on their bed and crawled over her, lowering his face close to hers, theirs noses brushing against each other before his lips slanted across hers. She buried a hand in his short dark hair and forgot about everything except the feel of his fingers, his mouth, his everything on her.

It was nights like this, when they finally had some time alone for just each other, that she was reminded of how much she loved him, of how much he loved her. There was nothing better than that feeling.

...

_Nine Hours Later_

A bell rang above his head as he exited the jewelry store, pocketing a red velvet box. His car sat across the street; parking in New York wasn't easy, even for a Detective. He paused as the door swung shut behind him, his cell phone ringing inside his pocket. Digging it out, he checked the caller ID, hoping it was the woman he had just been shopping for. Unfortunately, any hopes he had were quickly quashed as he noticed the number. He sighed, shaking his head to himself before he put his phone away once more.

Checking how traffic was, he stepped off the curb and started walking. The light was red down the road and his way was clear to get to his parked car. But as he reached halfway across, he heard the squealing of tires and turned his head to see a large red Sedan headed right for him. For a split second, he saw the face behind the wheel, tear stained and angry. His hand reached for his gun at the same time his feet started moving as quickly as they could. She swerved, following him, and while fearing for his own life, he couldn't help but look around to see if anybody else might also be in danger. Thankfully, it was only him who chose to jaywalk and had a car on his ass.

He was nearly at his car and hoping to hop the front end and avoid the Sedan crushing him but just as he got close, she revved the engine and plowed into him. She had him pinned against his own car, his body crushing under the pressure and his head slamming against his driver's side window. The weight of the car against him seemed to increase and stay there forever, but as his eyes darkened and he began to lose consciousness, the car backed up and sped off down the street, leaving him to slide down to the pavement, bleeding and broken.

His eyes opened and closed, darkening and blurring with each passing second. He felt something sliding out of his coat and the worst came to mind. But his fingers wrapped around the red velvet box that escaped his jacket, holding on tight. And just as he heard people asking if he was okay and shouting for someone to call 911, he passed out.

...

_Simultaneously_

Mac Taylor stepped inside an apartment in ruins; the home of one of his own. He swallowed tightly as he entered the area. Candles were tossed to the ground, pools of dried wax stuck to carpet and hardwood floors. Pictures were thrown all over, crushed and broken. Furniture was turned over, the TV smashed to pieces, even the fridge had been raided, food pulled out to the floor. Behind him was Stella; not a word had escaped her since they found out the address of the victim.

A cop stepped up to them. "Neighbor called it in. Front door was wide open, they noticed the mess."

Mac barely heard him.

"No witnesses so far. Neighbors say there weren't any problems until this morning. She was always polite, friendly... They didn't know why anybody would want to hurt her."

Mac wanted to agree but given their job, it could be a long list of people thinking they were in the right, whether she was a good person or not.

"The bedroom," somebody told him, he didn't look, instead following the pointed finger to the open doorway.

He heard Stella let out a sob, trying to cover it with a cough. And not for the first time, he wondered if he shouldn't have somebody else working this case.

Lying in the center of the bed, covered in blood was Lindsay Monroe. The formerly white sheet beneath her was stained in red, the comforter she'd previously been wearing was tossed to the floor, torn and bloodied. Her hand was reaching to the left, fingers furled in the sheet.

"We found her gun in the bedside table," an officer said. "The drawer was open but it looks like she didn't have time to get to it."

Mac nodded numbly.

"Has Sid arrived?" Stella wondered quietly.

"Dr. Hammerback went outside for some air earlier."

"Where's Detective Flack?" Finally, Mac lifted his eyes up to look at the officer in front of him.

He shook his head. "We've been calling but he hasn't answered yet."

Mac nodded. "Stella?"

"I'll start processing the scene," she murmured.

He turned toward her, uncertainly.

"It's okay," she told him, her expression firm. "I can handle this. I just... I _need _to do this for her. It wouldn't be right to let anyone else, Mac."

With a sigh, he nodded.

The police officer sighed. "She was a nice girl...

He frowned. "Unfortunately, nice doesn't mean much anymore."


	2. Continued

Due to FFnet restriction on MA/NC-17 material, the rest of this story was moved to my LiveJournal account (under **sarcastic_fina**).

Access is open to all!

Please visit to continue reading and review!

Thank you for your understanding.

**-Lee / Tarafina  
**


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